


Keys

by Frangipanidownunder



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 11:50:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20309026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frangipanidownunder/pseuds/Frangipanidownunder
Summary: “You don’t need keys to drive me crazy.”Fluffy-fluff!





	Keys

There’s an alien head keyring with glow-in-the-dark-eyes. It’s next to a ring with the head and shoulders of a woman with round-rimmed glasses and a buttoned-down white collared jacket, a Disney-Princess-style scientist. Mulder is having the time of his life. He takes both and pays with a delighted chuckle.

“Why do you need those?” The sun is sinking over the pristine lake in the distance and all she wants to do is find the cabin and kick off her shoes, open the Zinfandel and forget about everything.

“I don’t need them. But they spoke to me. C’mon, Scully. It’s a sign.”

“Of what?” She slides into the drivers seat and holds out her hand for the keys.

He squeezes her thigh and sends bolts of pleasure through her. Damn him and his smug grin. “Of the way our weekend will pan out.”

“Our weekend will be spent in a carpark at the LakeView MiniMart unless you give me the car keys.”

Looping the ignition key off the plain silver ring, he ostentatiously twists it on to the alien head and waggles it in her face. She swats at it and he yanks it back. He repeats his actions and she tries to swipe it from his hand and misses again.

“Too slow, Agent Scully.”

He hides them behind his back and actually pokes out his tongue. “Do I drive you crazy, Scully?” There’s a jangle and he lifts the keys into the air.

She doesn’t look up. “You don’t need keys to drive me crazy.”

“Kiss me and you can have them.” He pushes his lips out, fat and wet.

“Mulder…” She can’t drag her eyes from his mouth.

Sighing theatrically, he tucks them into his pocket. “Hide and Seek, Scully.”

“The object of Hide and Seek is that the Seeker does not know where the Hider has concealed the subject of the game. Clearly, I know where the keys are. This is not Hide and Seek. This is…”

“What’s the name of this game, Scully?”

“Not-Hide and Not-Seek. It’s just silly.”

“Is not,” he counters. “I like to call it Treasure Hunt and as you know, X marks the spot.” There’s a chuckle brimming in his throat. She can see it behind his Adam’s apple.

“I’m not playing,” she says, chancing a glance at his lap.

“Spoilsport,” he says in a low growl. He tilts his groin up, pats his pocket again and the alien head peeks out.

She tuts, adding an eye-roll for good measure before she delves towards his hip, stabbing her hand inside the pocket and retrieving the keys in one deft move.

“Hey!” he yells, “I didn’t count to ten yet!”

“Too bad, so sad,” she says, starting the car. She finds her glasses, pops them on her nose, pulls up her collar and blows him her best Disney-Princess-Scientist-style kiss.


End file.
